Pawn
by Mishmodia
Summary: A short one-shot about how Molly Hooper realized she wasn't just a weak chess piece in Sherlock Holmes's little games.


**This is just a short oneshot I thought of late last night. Just recently gotten into the Sherlock fandom, so don't be too hard on me, but critique is always nice!**

**-Mishmodia**

Xxx

She always felt like a pawn. Just a pawn in Holmes's little game, feeling as though there was nothing for her except little purposes. But just being able to be something for him was good enough. Molly Hooper was a tolerant woman, which was easily deduced. Sherlock read her like an open book, but some things most people see clearly were just foreign to him. Being with Tom gave her a sense of security. It was like a little piece of Sherlock was in him.

But maybe it was just the looks. Who knew, she just liked how those people worked. Mostly Sherlock, or course, what with the constant turning gears and the ability to see what others can't. But all the same, it gave him a sort of innocence to the natural feelings a human has.

But most would tell Sherlock he was far from human, yet in a way, he was human. Just a mentally developing one.

Molly Hooper was in the midst of checking yet another body for Sherlock, as eager as ever to be included in his antics. However, not as eager to hear his well-known frustration.

"Perhaps the man was strangled?" She took her best guess. It wasn't too bad, considering she'd only began less than a few minutes beforehand.

"Are you daft?!" And here it was. Sherlock was calm to most who didn't know him, but Molly knew a whole different Sherlock. She almost pitied John, since he'd been Sherlock's flat mate for quite some time.

"I was just wondering."

"Well, wondering isn't getting us anywhere. In the two minutes you've been observing this body, I've already deduced that the man has a small hole on the right side of his neck, meaning some sort of sharp object was stabbed into him. This sharp object was almost positively a needle, containing some kind of poison, most likely a mixture of multiple poisons, since he has no positive symptoms." His voice flowed like water, and it was definitely about high tide. She may have been the professional one, but he was definitely the more skilled man.

"I see." She answered curtly, looking on the side of his neck to see it as well, hiding a scowl.

"What has you looking distraught?" He asked, but with no answer, returned to the corpse. "Even Lestrade could have picked this up, and he's quite the dolt sometimes."

"I know now. Okay?" She murmured. Two eyes fixed on her side, where he was standing, and she tried her hardest not to melt under certain pressure.

"So something is bothering you."

"Drop it, please." She requested meekly, returning to the body. "You can leave, I've about got this covered. I'll start the official autopsy tonight if you head out now."

His coat swung behind him as he turned abruptly, ready to stride out, but catching himself on the doorframe, he stopped, looking back at Molly. She let her scowl show, considering she thought he was gone.

"Molly, I hope you know that I have a brain." He broke the silence.

"A brilliant one at that."

"Then I guess you know that I can deduce things quite easily."

"Who doesn't know that, Sherlock?" She was a bit confused as to why he had turned into Captain Obvious.

"If it's something I did, then I see no reason for you to be upset."

"I'm not upset." She shook her head. "Work is just… stressful lately."

"You spent the last three days on holiday." He countered, causing her to curse to herself. "How can you be stressed if it's only been one day this week?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"That's how I get a lot of answers."

At this, she knew she wasn't going to win, and sighed, setting the scalpel down She wanted to ask him if she was any sort of value to him. She wanted to ask him what he would do without her. She wanted to ask him if he even minded if she wasn't there.

But for some reason, no words spilled from her usually talkative self, but since Sherlock was Sherlock, the answers to the un-asked questions began.

"You're one of the most important people in my life." He said monotonously. "You should know this by now."

"I do." She nodded. "I'm your handyman."

"That's not exactly what I'm getting at, but you're partially right."

"I feel as though I'm more right than usual." She answered, head drooping.

"But you aren't. If you weren't here, then John would have to handle finding a pathologist, and you know how he can be." Molly was surprised Sherlock could badmouth John like that. "And I'm not saying this in spite of him." He always read her mind. "John's good in his field of work, but you're the best I have."

"Well thank you."

"But you still aren't understanding me. I need you to know that I'm right."

"Sherlock, I know you're right." She just hated his need to be right. But at the same time, it gave him character.

"I don't fully believe you, but you'll figure it out eventually." Stepping forward once more, he took her face in his hands, his lips on her forehead. "You're important to me in a way I don't quite understand, and not understanding something frustrates me." He whispered before moving away. "I'll be going now. I want the autopsy done by morning. Expect me a quarter until 9."

"Err, yes, okay." She responded quietly as he exited. Almost speechless, she shook it off, shaking her head at him with a small smirk on his face. Sometimes, the pawn can win the whole game in the end.


End file.
